Memories
by RavynRose
Summary: Justin is in New York. Babylon has just reopened. Three months after 513. The Memories of Brian Kinney.THERE IS A SEQUEL: DREAMS.
1. Chapter 1

"You're Brian Kinney, for Fuck's Sake!"

Michael used to _always_ tell me that. He'd hold me, kiss me, tell me that, no matter what, I'd always be beautiful.

And, now, as I dance with him in Babylon, I realize how true he is.

Babylon was a bombed-out mess three months ago, nothing but ashes and embers, memories lost beneath piles of dust and dried up blood.

I threw my hands into the air, moving to the music, feeling Michael wrap his arms around my waist, pulling me close to him.

I looked down at him and smiled, the first smile I had allowed since Justin left for his job in New York. Noticing this, Michael brought his right hand to my left cheek, caressing it gently.

Letting my hands fall from the air, I threw my arms around his neck, leaning in and kissing him, as I always had, passionately and tenderly.

As his other hand came to run it's way through my hair, my mind traveled back to when we had first kissed.

It was the same old story.

He and I had been looking at pictures of the gorgeous Patrick Swayze in some off-beat teen-girl's magazine. (Where else were we gay men supposed to find hot studs?)

I found myself very aroused by this one picture, in particular. I remember looking over and seeing that young Michael, too, was aroused. Very evidently aroused.

I had teased him about it, for, at the time, of the two of us, I was the only one openly gay.

"You have a hard on!" I had exclaimed, knocking against his shoulder gently.

He had shivered and self-consciously placed his hand above his crotch in attempt of hiding his evident hard-on.

I had turned my body into this weird angle and loomed over him, running my hand up and down his chest.

"I can do something about that." I had whispered softly, sliding my left hand to his pants and slowly unbuttoning them, catching his eyes for permission before sliding my hand underneath the zipper and into his briefs, grasping his hard-on gently, and slowly wrapping my fist around it.

As I began to jerk him off, I had leaned in to kiss him, pushing my tongue into his mouth, running it along the roof of his mouth, eliciting a moan from him, an animal-like moan.

Just as things had started to get heated, his mother had walked in, causing him to go flying off the bed.

I had remained where I was, wondering what the hell had just happened.

And, now, as he and I kiss again, I smile into his lips, rubbing the nape of his neck tenderly, letting him know that I was here, and that I would _always_ be here.

He pulled away, looking down towards Ben, his husband, who was dancing with Ted, Emmett, and Blake, Ted's new beaux.

Ben smiled up towards us, winking at his lover, a signal that our time was over for the night.

As Michael slid out, and away, from my grasp, he gently clasped our hands together, nodding up towards me.

And then he was gone, back on the floors of Babylon, escaping our fantasy for his reality.

I threw my hands into the air again, taking in a deep breath, ready for tomorrow, ready for the new life that lie ahead. A life without Michael, without Ben, and most importantly, without Justin.

My mind began it's flashback course, again, this time landing on Justin and I's first kiss.

Michael, the gang, and I, had been loading up into my jeep, the usual, straight out of Babylon, when he had caught my eye.

The gorgeous twink under the lamplight. He didn't belong in this world. I had known that.

I hadn't cared.

I had strolled away from the gang and paused mere inches from Justin, our chests close enough to feel each other breathe.

"How's it going? You had a busy night?" I had asked, attempting to show no emotion, or falter, in my expression.

His response was forged, but well.

"Just, uh, checking out the bars, you know. BoyToy, Meathook."

I remember chuckling slightly, not believing him for a minute that he had visited either establishment.

"Meathook? Really? So you're into leather?" I had asked, catching him in his lie.

He had blushed, the red showing evidently against his pale skin.

That was when I knew he would be trouble. But I hadn't been willing to admit it. Hadn't been willing to admit that this was anything other than my usual one-night-stand.

After he had replied, I asked him where he was headed.

"No place special." had been his response.

And, in true Brian Kinney manner, in a flirtacious tone, I had said, "I can change that."

Next thing I knew, I was driving off, deserting the gang, a hot twink in the passenger side of my four wheel drive jeep.

He was cautious as I walked him up the stairs to my loft, eyes darting from the walls to floor, never catching my eyes.

When I slid the key into the loft door, slid it open, and walked in, I wasn't sure if he was going to follow, but, sure enough, he was right behind me.

"Shut the door." I had said sternly, going straight to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water.

"This is a really nice place." he had stuttered, still not catching my eyes.

Using the bottle of water as bait, I had poured it all over my head, letting it casually slip down my body, _finally_ catching his gaze in mine.

I had went on to ask him if he liked 'special K', the drug of the evening, and the poor lad had thought I meant the **cereal**.

It was then I knew his innocent looks, his innocent attitude, was anything but false. I looked to the night as a means of breaking this twink's innocence.

What threw me off was his ability to talk, and talk, and talk. Going on about his allergies, and how he was allergic to Tylenol.

I mean, come on, Tylenol? No one's allergic to that. Tylenol's what they give you when you're allergic to everything else.

I had shaken my head, cleared my mind, and began to work on unfastening my jeans, sliding out of them as he had gone on talking, something about an allergy to Codeine.

As soon as my pants had hit the floor, his words faultered.

Teasingly, I had suggested we keep the Codeine on the top shelf, well out of reach, and slid out of my underwear, spreading my arms to the side.

"So, are you coming or going? Or coming and then going? Or coming and staying?" I offered, giving him choices, something _none_ of my past twinks had _ever _gottten.

I was hoping with these words, he would understand, tonight was about everything, and about nothing at all.

Hesitantly, he slid out of his jacket, tossing it to the couch, and walked towards me. I had pulled him against my body, my left hand automatically working at his pants, quickly unzipping them, as I leaned in, not yet kissing him, but breathing against him, feeling him get so aroused.

I finally kissed him, the kiss slow and sensual as I slid my hand down his pants.

He had gasped aloud, then, hardening me quickly, quicker than I had ever been hardened before.

Taking advantage of his open mouth, I kissed him again, this time entering my tongue into the play.

Quickly, the kiss turned heated, and the next thing I knew, I was leading him to the bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

Back at Babylon, in the present, my mind returned to what was _now_, thinking of what lie ahead. 

It was time to move on. Time to let my Michael and Sunshine go. They both had their own lives to attend to. Michael had Ben, and Justin had his artwork.

Where did that leave me? I was alone, as I had been before Justin, before Michael.

The music wove it's way around me, slowing, and then freezing.

I looked down to the dance floor, envisioning Justin and I's first night at Babylon.

He had fought so hard for me. I had turned him down, seen him cry, only to have him in my arms, smiling at his victory, two nights later.

The music sped up, again, and faded away from my body as I stepped down from the dance stage, passing through the crowd, quickly disappearing into the backroom.

I wasn't there for sex. I was there to escape. The backroom's exit was much more unnoticed than the front exit. I needed to be alone this night, this night marking the night Michael married Ben, this night marking the last time I had seen Justin's Sunshine smile.

"You're leaving?" I heard Michael ask as he pushed his way through to my side.

I shrugged as pushed open the back door, the cold winter air hitting me hard enough to cause me to shiver.

"It's late." I replied, pulling my Corvette's keys out from my back pocket and unlocking the car, walking over to it slowly.

"It's barely two a.m.." Michael retorted.

I rolled my eyes.

"I need to be alone, right now, Mikey." I pleaded, keeping my back towards him as I opened the Corvette's driver side door.

I heard him scuffle his feet, as if trying to decide whether he should have a reply or not.

"Don't, Mikey. Not tonight. _Please_." I whispered.

I felt him come up beside me, and forced myself to meet his gaze.

Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close, kissing me softly, and then quickly pulling away.

"Meet you at the diner, later? Breakfast?" he asked.

I smiled.

"You know the time." I replied, sliding into the Corvette, giving one last glance up towards Michael.

"Two p.m. Got it." he said softly, leaning down and pecking me on the lips before turning away and entering back into Babylon.

I slammed the door shut and started the car, letting out a prolonged sigh.

As I backed out of the parking spot, my cell phone rang.

Scowling, I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled the phone out, not even bothering to look at the caller I.D., and flipping it open, bringing it to my ear.

Suddenly, I had a flashback of when Babylon had been bombed.

I had been ready to head out of town, in the taxi, set to go. I had been riding down Liberty Lane, just south of Liberty Avenue, when the radio spoke of Babylon's tirade. My first thought had been Justin. I urged my driver to turn around, thankfully he had.

I had whipped out my cell phone and hit speed dial one, Justin's number.

He hadn't answered.

When I got to Babylon and saw the destruction, I almost fell out of the car, my legs no longer able to support me. I had grabbed onto the taxi's roof for support, eyes scanning the landscape and not finding any sign of Justin.

It was all I had had in me not to fall apart, right there.

Now, as I flipped open my cell phone and mumbled my greeting into it, and heard Justin's voice on the other end, I found myself reliving our nights together.

"Sunshine." was all I could manage after hearing Justin's voice.

I should have figured he'd call tonight. He'd called only four times in the past two months, once for every anniversary of his leave, and once for every anniversary of our first night.

Sure, I could have easily called _him_, but I'm Brian Kinney, for fuck's sake. I had to uphold a reputation!

There was silence between us, as there always was when he called. Neither of us knew what to say. More so, I didn't know if 'I miss you' was ever appropriate for Brian Kinney to say.

"How's work?" I managed, mentally slapping at my forehead.

I smiled when he launched into some tirade about some twink bringing in competition.

Leaning back into my seat, my free hand steadily steering the car down Liberty Avenue, I felt a tear slide down my cheek.

Blinking, I laughed, interrupting Justin's tirade.

"No, no, I'm not laughing at you, Sonney-boy." I insisted, flushing, slightly.

He just went on, as if nothing had startled him.

Rubbing my cheek against my shoulder, a flashback came to mind. The first time I had ever cried over anyone. It was when my father had died.

The only thing I had left of his was his infamous bowling ball. Michael in tow, I had reluctantly gone to his funeral. Of course, there, I found myself upsetting my family with the truth behind the person that was my father.

At the end of the night, as Michael drove me home, I found myself in tears. I had tried to hide them, looking everywhere but at Michael, but, Michael being Michael, had noticed them, and had pulled over on the side of the road and held me.

The second time had been when Justin had left with Ethan at he and Michael's Rage Party. I had known, for a while, he had been cheating on me. Cheating on our rules, our expectations. I had even met said violinist. He was gorgeous. At the time, I could see every reason why Justin wanted to be with him. He provided everything I couldn't, everything I _wouldn't_. I had never expected Justin to actually _go off_ with him **in front of everyone**.

I remember taking off my mask and catching his eyes, giving him the silent initiative, 'him or me'.

He had chosen him. He had linked arms with Ian, **_Ethan_**, and walked out, not even looking back at me or the family.

I had quickly slid my mask back over my eyes and moved on to dancing with some blonde guy who reminded me of Justin, grinding against him, leading him on in my Kinney-esque manner.

I had also let loose the tears, easily masked behind my Rage eyes.

To this day, only Michael knows the truth of the wetness on my cheeks from that night.

I pulled my car into it's usual spot outside the loft and slid the keys out of the ignition, still holding the phone to my ear.

"Sun, Sunshine, I'm at the loft, now." I said hoarsely.

I heard him shuffle, moving around in his bed, a slight groan forming on his lips.

"I'll call you later, Sonney-boy." I continued.

He went on to say something about me always saying that, but never meaning it.

I chuckled slightly before saying my next words.

"I mean it this time, Justin. I miss you, and I will call. G'night, Sonney-boy."


	3. Chapter 3

As I flipped the phone shut, I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror. 

I was all smiles. I was always smiling when my Justin was in the picture.

Walking up to my loft, I remembered the night I had asked Justin to move in with me. It was the night Michael and I had completed the Liberty Avenue Bike Ride.

I had been lying on the floor in a makeshift bed, cradling my sprained wrist, listening to Bon Jovi in my earphones, when I finally decided it was time. Time for us to make it official.

Or as official as it could be.

As I had slid into a sitting position, looking over to Justin, who was cleaning up in the kitchen, I ran the words over and over through my head.

"I had time to think." was how I began.

Justin had come to lie down beside me, resting his chin on his left palm, staring at me intently, nodding at me to go on.

"About what I'd do differently if I surived cancer." I had gone on, seeing him visibly flinch at the word 'cancer'. I, Brian Kinney, had developed, and handled, testicular cancer.

I had gone on to joke about redoing the bedroom, ridding, as Justin had so calmly put it, that 'so 90's' thing above my bed.

"And then I'd like to spend more time with my son. He's at an age now when he needs a strong masculine influence. Especially being raised by a couple of dykes. He's got to know about Armani, Gucci, Prada, not just football and engine tuning. " I had continued, picking on Melanie and Lindsay's parental style, looking back to Justin, who had asked, 'What else?'.

I had walked over to him, set my bottle of water on the counter, and told him what I wanted.

"I want you to move back in."

I remember the look on his face. Dumbfounded describes it best.

He had gone on to ask if I were proposing, which was utterly ridiculous.

"Of course not. With the sudden and unexpected plethora of gay marriages, I'd hate to add to the glut. All this running back and forth between here and Daphne's is time-consuming. And inconvenient. I mean, just last week, you forgot your socks and had to borrow a pair of mine. And as for the times when you're not around, I wouldn't particularly mind it if you were. " I had shot back in reply, smiling slightly.

He blushed, leaning forward and whispered, "I've been waiting for you to ask me that since the first night you brought me here.".

I had then gone to rest my hand on his left shoulder, asking if it were time for me to make room in my drawers for his drawers.

He had looked quite indecisive, scaring me, before telling me of his job on Rage, how he was going to be leaving, then, for a few months.

A few months turned out to be six. I wasn't a happy camper. But the minute he came home, he moved in, and he was finally mine.

As I slid my loft's door open, I found myself suddenly remorse, suddenly quite upset that Justin had taken the job in New York.

I had done all I could to insist he go, and now all I wanted was for him to be in my arms.


	4. Chapter 4

I slid my jacket off and haphazardly threw it onto the couch, strolling past said couch and falling on my bed, contorting my way to my back. 

I suddenly found found myself remembering the first time I let Justin top me.

He had just gotten home from Sap's party.

I'm sorry. _Gary's_ party.

Gary was, at the time, Justin's boss.

Justin had gotten a job as a go-go-boy at Babylon to pay off his college tuition, the tuition that his dad had cut him off from.

It wasn't the greatest of his lifelong mistake of choices, nor was it the worst.

I don't know what happened at that party, but I do know he finally figured out that it was time to ask for help.

My help, specifically, which I had offered to him. I had had a job as an accountant, I had had the money to loan him.

It took a life changing event for him to accept my terms.

That was the night he topped me in bed.

Reluctantly, at that. No one had ever topped me before.

Sunshine was special. That was the night I realized it.

I had almost allowed the infamous Justin Hustler top me, just because he had Justin's looks, but I had come to my senses.

Closing my eyes, I brought back Justin and I's reunification, after Ethan.

He had tried so hard to find his way back into my life, but I wouldn't allow it. He followed me _everywhere_, even to my job, interning right under my nose.

At the last minute, I decided maybe he was right, maybe we did deserve each other. I laid down the rules, and he accepted, much like he had in our first covenant, which he broke not soon after.

He had won his place in my arms, three times in the past five years. Gotta grant him that.

It was now my turn to win him back. Sure, he had a good job, but he didn't have me, I, him.

I needed him. I can happily admit that, now. Now that I've proposed and bled my heart for him, I think I'm granted one 'I miss you', one visit to his apartment in New York.

I shot up from the bed, running briskly towards the computer, moving my mouse around, waking it up, and quickly entering in the url to my favorite plane ticket site, finding an appropriate time and ordering tickets.

No longer would I be looking to the past, to the memories, but to the future, to my ray of sunshine.

I went back over to my bed, pulling my shirt over my head, tossing it to the side, and threw myself back onto the sheets, smiling brightly.

No longer just memories.

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